


Side Effects May Include

by PrettyArbitrary



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Bad Sex, Bukkake, Fighting Kink, Flirting, Forced Orgasm, Fucking Machines, Gangbang, M/M, Medical Kink, Original Character(s), Other, Pining, Post-Coital Cuddling, Protective Gabriel, Public Sex, Restraints, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Pollen, Slow Burn, Teasing, Voyeurism, ye olde SEP days
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:59:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8209426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyArbitrary/pseuds/PrettyArbitrary
Summary: The SEP treatments can have some weird side effects, but Jack really won the raffle on this one.He's not 100% sure if he's being sarcastic or not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 1 of Kinktober. Prompt: sex machines (with a bit of creative interpretation)

Jack tilts his head back and pants for breath, the metal exam table dimpling under the grip of his fingers as his body tightens in yet another orgasm. The muscles of his lower abdomen almost cramp with the force of their attempts to eke some remaining drops of fluid from him, but he feels squeezed dry.

Every drip of the biological enhancers into his bloodstream seems to ratchet up his libido to agonizing new heights, and the vibrator they inserted into him to help him compensate has been going for half an hour now. This side effect doesn’t happen to everybody, but after the first time Jack experienced it, the doctor who sat him down to talk about it told him reassuringly, “You’re not the first.” It helps a little to know that, at least with the embarrassment of the whole thing, but if he’d known these treatments would include him being strapped down and fucked with a sex toy for an hour a week, he probably would’ve skipped the sign-ups.

The worst part, though, is how the relief of release lasts only moments before it fades back into the pain/pleasure of over-stimulation, taking the brief bout of mental clarity with it. “Please. Please!” he begs, writhing on the table as the medical staff continue to work around him. Every so often, one of them presses a hand to his shoulder or stomach or leg, encouraging him to be still for the injections, but they’d have to weigh him down with a boulder to make him stop moving. He just can’t do it. They had to bind him down just to keep him sliding off the table. Lately they’ve been having to graduate to heavier-duty binders.

Some coherent corner of him is glad he’s too out of it to recognize the noises he’s making. A couple of the staff display decidedly pink faces as they come and go, mucking with syringes and tubes and spinny whirring centrifuge things. The drugs ache under his skin, tingle in his groin in a dreadful constant tease. Shackled down, he can’t even touch himself. He’ll be grateful for that later, probably, but right now he couldn’t care less if a team of doctors and nurses watched him rub one out.

It’s another half hour before the treatment session ends and he’s cleaned up and released. By the end, he’s just lying there, quivering all over and whimpering. On the bright side, he’s too far gone to notice the pain of the injections. He’s heard some of the other guys scream in the last few rounds. Not that Jack doesn’t scream, sometimes, but not because of that.

It’s standard procedure for someone to escort a soldier back to their dorm after treatment. Jack isn’t the only one who has to be more or less carried to make it there. There are some wolf whistles and catcalls in the halls; there’s no hiding the fucked-out look after coming for an hour straight. The soldier hauling him like a sack of potatoes hands him over to Gabriel at the door of their shared rooms, salutes, and leaves.

Gabriel drags Jack’s ass inside and to his bed. “Again? Shit, rookie, the least they could do is give you some kind of aftercare.”

Jack isn’t a rookie, but Gabriel likes to call him that when he’s too out of it to argue. But he lets Gabe fuss. Gabe grumbles to himself in Spanish as he bustles around, fetching a glass of water he presents to Jack with an air of inevitability, and bringing over a hot pad he drapes across Jack’s lower stomach. Jack sighs gratefully as the heat begins to sink into him. Maybe tomorrow he won’t be too stiff to move from the waist down. He doesn’t resist when Gabriel starts running his hands over Jack’s limbs to check for bruising, and then kneads at his large muscle groups till Jack feels even more like a soupy sack of pumpkin innards than he did already. He doesn’t complain--never does--when Gabe finally slides into the not-very-wide bed with him and pulls Jack tight against him.

Jack nestles his head in the crook of Gabriel’s shoulder and thinks, not for the first time, that maybe this isn’t so bad as long as he’s got someone to look after him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 of Kinktober. Prompt: bukkake--but I also got gangbang, spit-roasting and semi-public sex in there!

For Jack, the worst part of the treatments is that it takes two or three days for the unbearable horniness to really wear off.

Then again, the one upside about being sequestered in a military research facility with a bunch of adrenaline junkie men and women–and a few others–in the best shape of their lives is that he’s surrounded by plenty of hot people who are stir-crazy enough that they’re ready to fuck anything. And at this point, they’ve all seen each other in so many states of total indignity that walking up and asking for cock is positively mundane.

Which is all by way of saying, this is how Jack ended up being the spitroast in a foursome with two other guys and Captain Maria Santiago, whom he is currently getting fucked into by Lt. Lockerbie, who is riding his ass like a bullet train trying to jump a missing chunk of track. It’s probably also the reason Gabriel hasn’t felt bothered to move his ass from the sagging armchair in the corner, where he’s sitting in a pair of sweatpants, reading a really ridiculous-looking novel and periodically offering constructive criticism.

“Slow your ass down, Lockerbie, you want to make him scream with pleasure, not rug burn.”

Jack feels the flush on his face deepen. It doesn’t help that Lockerbie takes Gabe’s advice and almost immediately hits Jack in a spot that makes him moan like a whore around Walker’s cock. The others all laugh, except for Walker, whose eyes roll up in his head.

“See,” Gabe says, and turns a page. The asshole.

Santiago twists beneath him to get her legs around both Jack and Lockerbie. “Come on, you fuckers, I am so close and if you make me lose this I will crack your spines from your bodies with my thighs.” Jack nearly chokes on dick as her movement pulls Lockerbie right into that spot again and makes him see stars. All three of them cry out as Jack’s whole body seizes up on them.

“Oh fuck,” Lockerbie wails as Jack clenches around him. “I’m so close.”

Jack grabs Walker’s cock and pulls off so he can glare over his shoulder. “You come in me and I will rip your balls off.”

“Aw, come on, man, we spend more time with our doctors than we do with our girlfriends. We’re all fuckin’ clean as virgins.”

Jack wrinkles his nose, hung up between declaring that he’s just not in the mood to deal with the mess in his ass, or arguing about Lockerbie’s fucked-up ideas of safe sex when he’s not even using a condom.

“He said no.” Jack looks over at Gabriel, who’s put the book down and is staring at Lockerbie with a flat calm that honestly is a little alarming.

Lockerbie apparently thinks so too, because he pulls out without further comment. “Shit, Morrison, can I come on you then? God damn, that ass is so pretty, I just wanna mark it up a little.”

There’s a snort from the corner. “Who doesn’t.” 

Jack’s head whips around from giving Lockerbie the nod–whatever, honestly, it washes off easily enough–to try to catch the look on Gabe’s face, but if there was one, it’s already gone and he’s got his nose back in the book.

He can hear Lockerbie’s heavy breathing behind and above him. The man groans low in his throat, and then there’re spatters of thick, body-warm liquid splashing across his back. Actually it feels kind of great, although it’ll be disgusting in a few minutes when it cools off. Then he flinches as something hot hits his face.

“Oh, shit.” Walker. More hits Jack’s hair and shoulders. Jack waits till he’s sure it’s safe, then cracks an eye open–the one not gunked–to look up at him.

Walker looks mortified, a hand clapped over his mouth and blushing so hard that even his dark skin can’t save him. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean… He just went off on you and shit, that one bit ran down your spine and I couldn’t…”

Gabriel cracks up.

Jack wipes at his mouth. “No, it’s… Accidents happen.” And are never fucking lived down, from the way Gabe is giggling into his knees.

Santiago’s heel hits him hard in the kidney. “Come on, cowboy, it’s just you and me now. I got one more in me, so don’t be a lightweight.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we discover just how oblivious Jack is, and how Gabriel works off all that frustration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 of Kinktober, Prompt: distracted.

Does Gabriel really need to do this much grappling? Jack can't remember their sparring involving so much full body contact before. It's really hard to fight with a man who is putting his hands all over you when it's all you can do to keep from rocking back against him every time your bodies touch.

Gabriel is just so warm. And firm. And strong. He spins Jack around and catches him by the shoulders to go for a headlock, and the long press of him all the way up Jack's back feels so good that he can’t help it, he just melts against him. Gabriel has him pinned before he can draw another breath.

Jack moans with pleasure at the weight on top of him, then pushes his face into the mat in embarrassment. Gabriel snorts. That feels good, too, a rumble that goes right down through Jack to his cock. He ruts his hips against the ground twice before he manages to get himself under control.

“Treatments still got you fucked up?” Gabe asks, shifting to keep Jack’s hips pinned with his own. Jack has to concentrate with his whole body on not pushing back against him.

He squeezes his eyes shut, grateful Gabriel can’t see his face. Because no, it's not just the treatments. Gabriel is fucking gorgeous, he feels incredible--a fact which Jack is intensely familiar with--and he’s the kind of friend a guy can develop a crush on before he even realizes it. Jack might take Gabriel’s occasional habit of sharing his bed as an indication he’s interested in more than just friendship, except that in all the weeks this has been going on, he has yet to make a move, or even say anything. He just holds him till Jack stops feeling like he’s about to crawl out of his skin.

“Yeah,” he says. “The treatments still have me fucked up.” 

Gabriel rolls off him and helps him to his feet. “Come on, let's go again. Enemies won't care what shit you have going on. You’ve gotta learn how to focus through distractions.” And the son of a bitch cups a hand to Jack’s face, letting his thumb trail over Jack’s lips before he steps back and falls back into stance.

Jack catches himself before his knees buckle and pretends that the wobble was just him dropping into stance too.

They dance around each other, Gabriel’s grin blinding white and prickish in his dark face. “You’re red as a peach, princess.”

“Fuck off.” Jack lunges, scores a graze, retreats.

“Isn’t that your job?” Gabe laughs at him, then fades from the incensed kick Jack launches. He catches Jack’s heel on the recovery and tugs, reeling Jack in to stumble against him. Trapping Jack against his chest with an arm around his waist, he tumbles them both, rolling to the floor on top of him again with Jack’s leg pinned up against his chest via one hand behind his knee. “You’re really off your game today, güero. Who knew that’s all it took to break your composure?”

Jack bites back a hysterical laugh. So says the man lying between his thighs. God, Gabe can be such a colossal dick. No. Bad thought in this position. He pushes the back of his head into the mat and breathes, centering himself on the blessedly neutral physical sensation. “Fine,” he says, snapping his eyes open. “Okay. This is how you want to play it, _pendejo?_ ” 

Amusement flits over Gabe’s face at Jack hurling insults in white-boy Spanish, but he’s not distracted enough to lose his perch when Jack torques his hips to pitch him off. He just grinds down to drive Jack back into the floor under him. Undeterred--well, only mildly deterred--Jack grabs his ass with both hands, giving him a wedgie hard enough to make Gabriel yelp and scrabble for balance.

Jack tips Gabe off, rolls clear, kips up and closes in before Gabriel gets a chance to re-orient himself. An elbow to his back drives him to his knees, a knee to his jaw rattles him, and then Jack swings in behind him with an armlock across his throat, beginning the choke count in his head.

“El perrito tiene un mordisco,” Gabriel rasps, managing to sound smug despite the lack of oxygen. His hands fumble back to find Jack’s knees and hook behind them. 

Jack locks his legs around Gabe’s waist as he lifts them both with a surge of strength, and bites him on the shoulder. “I can understand you, asshole,” he says through his teeth. Then he bites down harder. It’s going to bruise, and it’s worth every minute of tormented arousal he’ll experience for the next week every time he sees Gabe with his shirt off.

Gabe snarls at the pain and hip-tosses him with a hard snap. Here’s how bad off Jack is: instead of any of the smart, potentially useful counters he could make to that, he scrabbles frantically at Gabe’s shoulders as he loses his grip on everything but his waist and starts swinging. Gabe squawks in surprise as the awkward shift in their combined gravity brings them down to the floor _again_.

Then he’s being flipped and rolled by an irate Gabe, whose brutally powerful and _dear god incredibly fine_ thighs lock around Jack’s head and shoulders in a triangle choke. His hand wraps around the back of Jack’s head and forces his neck down against Gabe’s lower abdomen. “What the fuck was that, farmboy?” he asks, sounding somewhere between outraged and choking on his own laughter.

There are ways to get out of a triangle choke. Normally Jack knows several. But he’s inches away from Gabriel’s groin and it’s, um, not quiescent. He squirms a little, only to feel Gabe’s hardness grow.

Gabe apparently notices too. His response is to squeeze harder, pulling Jack down tighter and more immobile against him. “What, you take almost every cock on the base and now you’re afraid of mine?”

Jack wheezes. It’s not from lack of air. These things happen, he tells himself. Especially when you and your really hot best friend are doing some weird kind of sexy gropey sparring thing and have spent a large part of the last hour within a few inches of each other’s junk.

He reviews that sentence in his head, and the liquid heat he’s been carrying low in his belly for the last two days does a slow barrel roll and comes all the way awake. He begins tapping frantically at Gabe’s thigh. “I yield. I yield, I surrender.” Oh god, if Gabe doesn’t let him up _right now_ he’s going to die between his thighs and he may not even mind.

Gabe uncoils from around him, rolls up to his knees and then looks at Jack, who just curls in on himself on the floor. “Well, that was a fucking embarrassment. You okay?”

Jack nods, pauses, shakes his head. “I need a really cold shower.”

“Hm. You sure you’re in any state to manage that by yourself?”

Jack twists around to look at him, because wait, “What?”

“What?” Gabe stares back down at him with a flat blankness that’s an outright dare to guess what he just meant by that. One way or another, this man is going to kill him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinktober prompt: Voyeurism

Gabriel's heading back from the weights room when he hears the moaning. Honestly. He can't leave Jack alone for five minutes.

It's coming from the warmup room just ahead. When he looks in the door, he sees Cabezial has Jack pinned up against the wall with his legs wrapped around his waist. His fingertips are digging into the grout of the tiles behind him—the treatments are doing their work, because there are literally little peels of it sticking to the creases of his nails—while Cabezial pulls him down into every thrust.

Yeah. Gabriel’s a bit pissed at Cabezial. 

He pushes the door open a bit more to slip inside and lean against the wall. He's not a creep; let them see he's there. Everyone on base should know the drill for this shit by now. He’s made it pretty goddamn clear that somebody had better be watching Jack’s ass when he’s out of his mind on his own chemically-induced libido. He’s not in any state to monitor his own limits when he’s like this. Maybe Gabriel needs to pound that a bit deeper into Cabezial’s head.

Jack's stupid long eyelashes flicker and his flush deepens as he registers Gabriel’s presence, but Cabezial’s too preoccupied with his own cock to notice. No surprise there; he’s a self-absorbed son of a bitch in their wargames, too.

Cabezial is going to town on Jack. It doesn’t look all that great, to be honest. He’s got all the ass-pounding technique of a prostate exam. But Jack arches his back and tosses his head against the wall with a louder moan than before as Cab hitches him a little higher up the wall. It puts a grin on Cab’s face, and no wonder; Jack does a convincing imitation of a porn star with that move. He grabs Jack by the hair and pulls his head to the side. “There we go, that's the kind of response I'm looking for.” Jack wrinkles his nose but lets him suck a hickey into that pale neck.

Jack flicks a searing blue glance in Gabriel’s direction, then wraps his arms around Cabezial’s neck and tightens his legs around his ribs. “Come on, harder, Cab. Make me scream.”

Gabriel glares and reaches down to adjust himself. His roommate is an exhibitionist fucker who is trying to give him a stroke.

Jack gets what he asks for, though. Cab mounts him like a fucking bull, bending him in half and driving him back against the tile till Gabriel wonders whether it or Jack’s spine will crack first. And Jack keeps fucking _teasing_ him, with little bit-off cries and whimpered ‘pleases’ and promises of “Yeah, almost, _almost_.” Gabriel’s seen Jack have sex enough times by now to know he’s doing it on purpose, but Jesus, it works. Gabriel wants to devour him. He wants to rip Cabezial right off him and fuck him till they both see stars.

Jack would let him, too. He’s hardly made it a secret that he wants a piece of Gabriel’s ass. But Gabriel isn’t going to do that because somebody around here has to be a responsible adult. And anyway, if Jack’s far enough gone to be down for sex this bad then it’d be a goddamn waste. Gabriel wants sex with him to mean more to Jack than fucking symptom relief.

“You are such a whore for it, aren’t you?” Cabezial grabs hold of Jack’s wrists and pulls him down harder onto him. Jack cries out in a mix of pleasure and discomfort. “What wouldn’t you let me get away with?”

Jack’s face goes redder than it already was. He doesn’t like having his current condition pointed out. He does what he has to in order to get by, but on those days when he comes back from his treatments wrecked and barely able to walk and Gabriel ends up holding him close till he stops shaking like an assault victim, sometimes Jack confesses how humiliating it is to lose control the way the treatments make him do.

He handles it pretty fucking well, all things considered. But while they’re all having fun with orgies, nobody seems to think much about the toll an ‘enhanced libido’ takes on Jack and his fellow sufferers. Gabriel’s got to admit he’s glad it isn’t him. 

“Cab, _please_.” Right now he’s close, from the note of genuine desperation in his voice. He writhes downwards, trying to generate the leverage to move himself on Cabezial’s dick. It’s not a good position for it. “Just let me come.”

“Shit, baby, you really take a dicking, don’t you?” Cab doesn’t even change his angle, the useless shit, panting as he thrusts like he’s about to win a race. Jack whines and twists on him, reaching for it, but whatever Cab’s doing with his dick, it’s not getting him there.

Gabriel knocks the back of his head against the wall in frustration. How is it fair that he’s an expert on how to fuck Jack Morrison without ever having touched the man? “Just give him a fucking hand, will you?”

Cabezial jerks with surprise and makes the most undignified groaning squawk Gabriel’s ever heard.

“Goddammit, no!” Jack roars. “Motherfucking...shit cocksucking…” He kicks Cabezial with his heel when the other man slumps against him. “Put me down. Put me down, Cab!”

Cabezial doesn’t even offer to help him out, just drops Jack’s legs and shuffles around to retrieve his stuff. Gabriel stares straight at him the entire time. Cab won’t look up from the floor in front of his feet when he slinks past Gabriel to the door.

“You and me, Cab,” Gabriel leans out the door to say to his retreating back. “We’re gonna have a talk later.”

Cabezial picks up some speed. Asshole.

When he turns back, Jack is jamming his legs angrily into his pants, still muttering profanities under his breath. Gabriel draws in a deep breath. He could make a choice, here. “You gonna take care of that yourself?”

Jack stops moving to meet his eyes miserably. “Not much point, now. Gabe, I…” He glances away, expression twisting for a second before he regains control. “Never mind.”

Gabriel purses his lips, pretty sure that was about to be something more than just a request for a handjob. He’d really like to ask what the fuck this whole stunt was about, but Jack is more upset than he’s letting on. That’ll have to come later.

“Come here.” He reaches up to tidy the mess of Jack’s blond hair. “At least you don’t have to _look_ like you just had an unsatisfying fuck in a room that smelled like gym socks.” 

Jack huffs a reluctant laugh and ducks his head for Gabriel. Gabriel feels almost as blue-balled as Jack probably does, but when Jack relaxes under his hands like this, he knows he’s made the right choice. Someone needs to look after this idiot.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinktober prompt: aftercare

Sometimes Jack thinks the way Gabriel looks after him is the worst part about all of this.

He gives Gabriel his best attempt at a smile when he comes through the door. Judging from Gabe’s expression, it’s not very convincing. He watches the changes flit over his face, passing through a couple he can’t read clearly, and then Gabriel heads over to start putting on a fresh pot of coffee.

Shame forces Jack to his feet. “Gabe, no, I can do that.” It’s just fucking coffee. He’s not an invalid. He doesn’t want Gabriel to feel _bad_ for him.

“I know,” Gabriel says, in no particular tone of voice. “But I’m doing it.” He pours the water in and shoves the decanter back onto the hotplate, then comes over to flop on the sofa. Jack, still standing, looks down at him and feels something ease up inside.

“Sit down.” He pats the spot where Jack’s ass just was.

Jack looks at it for a moment, not sure what’s going on in his own head, and then sits.

Gabriel leans back with a sigh and squirms till he’s comfortable, long legs stretched out before him and hands folded over his stomach. The coffee maker makes it perking noises behind them. Jack slowly settles back into his space on the couch the way he’d been before Gabriel drew him up out of it.

“You okay?” Gabe asks.

“Uh.” Great response, Jack. Very convincing. He can feel the awkward hanging silence while he tries to figure out whether he wants to tell the truth. Or what the truth is. “Yeah.”

Gabriel grunts. It’s about what that response deserves. “You hurt?”

“No. No, I’m not hurt.” He’s not, but the idea of Gabriel worrying about him feels bruising.

Gabriel nods. After another few seconds of silence and cheerful machine-burbling, he lifts his right arm in invitation. “Come here?”

Jack sucks in a breath so loud he can hear it echo in their space. God, he _wants._ The sheer force of it holds him back, and he’s baffled. It’s not like this is new; Gabriel takes care of him all the time. He’s not offering anything different.

Gabriel’s got his head tilted, watching him with some concern. The sofa is shaking. Jack looks down. _He’s_ shaking. “Oh…”

Gabriel’s frown deepens. “Are you hurt?” he repeats, with an intensity that says Jack won’t get away with a lie this time.

“No.” He meets Gabe’s eyes, wants him to know it’s the truth. “No, I promise.” He wants to explain. Doesn’t know what he wants to explain. 

“Come here,” Gabriel says again, softer but more insistent. Something about his tone makes Jack relent and slide over. 

He lets Gabriel close his arm over his shoulders and pull him in till they’re leaning together. It’s...better. Gabriel’s warmth pushes back the cold slimy wired feeling that’s been running through him, but there’s still a squirming shame in his gut, something in him wanting to push back even though he knows this is what he needs. He willfully ignores it and tries to relax into Gabe’s shoulder. Gabriel doesn’t say anything, and after a bit Jack feels the tremors die down. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you.” Gabe’s hand slides up and down the back of his upper arm. “You’re in a fucked up situation. It’s bound to get to you sometimes.”

“Yeah...” Jack squeezes his eyes shut, then pops them open again at the images that flood his head. He’s had some pretty wild sex. It all felt great at the time, but god, he feels like an asshole sometimes in retrospect.

The percolator’s stopped. The coffee smells amazing, the rich warmth of it driving all that back into the dark corners in his head, where as far as he’s concerned it can stay. “Here, I’ll get us some…”

“Don’t move yet.” Gentle pressure on the curve of his shoulder aborts his attempt to get up. Gabe’s got his head tipped back against the back of the sofa, eyes closed like he’s dozing, but Jack knows he’s aware of everything. He tips Jack in just a touch more against them, turning their thing from a supportive bro-hug into something more like a snuggle. It feels so good...and the gnawing sense of shame in Jack’s belly sets its teeth in till it forces him to sit up out of Gabriel’s loose embrace.

Gabe opens his eyes and lifts his head to look at him. Jack stares back at him miserably. He wants to apologize. He swallows it down. It’s not his fucking fault.

Gabe’s still watching him, gaze cool and assessing. After a moment, he asks, “What do you want, Jack?”

Jack’s mouth twists and he pushes up out of the couch. “I want to get us some coffee.” 

Mugs and spoons. Milk for Gabe because he brews his coffee so black it gives him acid reflux. Enough milk and sugar for Jack to turn it into something that’s closer to candy than a stimulant. Gabriel leans his hip against the counter and watches him while he puts their drinks together, then accepts his when Jack passes it over.

Jack stares into his mug and accepts that he’s trying not to think about something. He’s just not sure what. He’s got so much shit he’s repressing these days that it gets hard to identify the irritant at any given moment. 

Then the movement of Gabe’s mug up to his lips as he drinks catches his eye. Oh, right. That. “Have I ever said thanks?” he asks, and then clears his throat because holy shit that sounded rough. “For looking after me the way you do. It’s, um. It means a lot to me.”

“Anytime.” And the thing is. The awful thing that twists in Jack’s chest is that Gabriel sounds like he really means it. 

How the fuck is he supposed to deal with that? Or repay it? Or manage how it makes him feel? God, he wants Gabriel. Wants him so bad, and in so many ways. His skin aches in a whole different way than usual. Asking for any of it makes him feel like an asshole. Gabe gives him so much, just like this, more than he can even begin to pay him back for. The memory of how people were touching him just an hour ago—relative strangers, really, he knew their names but how much is that worth?—seeps through him and makes him feel sick all over again compared to the feeling of Gabriel’s arms around him just now.

Jesus, he feels like he’s about to cry. Wouldn’t that just be the icing on top of the shit sundae. He slurps down a larger than necessary mouthful of coffee to try to cover it, and then all but slams the mug down on the counter because fuck, that’s not working at all. “Gabe…?” And Christ, he sounds so needy. Like he’s broken or falling apart or—

Gabriel’s there, his arms tightening around him, body strong and broad and dense against his own. “It’s okay, cariño. I’ve got you. I’m here.” 

He’s not going to fucking cry. He’s not. He shakes with his nose shoved into Gabriel’s meaty shoulder for a few seconds till he’s sure he’s got it forced back, and then...stays there, because.

Oh god, because. Gabe’s hand is stroking slow circles over one of his shoulder blades, and Gabe’s aftershave and sweat are in his nose, and he’s warm and firm and the way he fills Jack’s arms and this is the only place anymore that Jack really feels safe. Wanted. Himself. He’s pretty sure he’s digging his fingers into Gabe’s back hard enough that he’s going to leave bruises but he can’t right now. He just can’t let go. And Gabe doesn’t try to make him. 

Gabe presses his lips against the side of Jack’s head, goatee rasping against Jack’s cheek and throat. “It’s okay, Jack. I’m here.”


	6. Chapter 6

06: Mentor/student

Jack is huddled barefoot in sweatpants on the sofa with a blanket across his shoulders and a styrofoam cup of cocoa from the commissary cradled in his big hands. 

Gabriel kicks the door shut behind him and tries to ignore the little flip his heart does at the sight. “You look like the world’s biggest 10 year old.”

Bright blue eyes flick up at him and then go back to watching the steam drift up from his cocoa. “Shut up.” His cheeks are a bit pink. Gabriel grins. He kind of loves the way Jack’s complexion won’t let him hide anything.

The clock on their microwave reads 13:34. “Weren’t you and Santiago planning to hook up after lunch?” Implied: why is Jack here moping at his hot cocoa when he could be getting banged by a hot, hard-up latina officer? Hard to imagine how that could’ve gone wrong. Aside from the fact that she’s one of Jack’s ‘fellow sufferers’ and as desperate for a good fuck as he is, it’s difficult to come back from hanging out with Maria Santiago in a bad mood. She’s the most enthusiastically vulgar person Gabriel’s ever met.

Jack shrugs. “I wasn’t really feeling it.”

Gabriel tosses his gear onto his bed and marches back out to squint down at Jack. He doesn’t say: Since when do you ‘not really feel it?’ Because that would be a dick thing to say to a friend struggling with a medical condition that forces him to have sex.

But he doesn’t really need to say it, apparently. When Jack looks up at him again, sulky and shifty, it’s clear that he heard anyway, and that he doesn’t want to talk about it.

Gabriel backs off. Jack’s got little enough privacy these days. He goes over to pour himself a cup from the pot of cold coffee and pop it into the microwave. Jack doesn’t turn to watch him, but his shoulders are tense under the blanket. They do have something else to talk about, after all. Now Gabriel’s wondering if this thing with Maria is part of whatever that was about too.

He walks back over with his coffee to stand in front of Jack again. “So. The thing with Cabezial. You wanna tell me what that was about? Because I gotta say I thought you had better taste than that.”

Jack sucks his lips between his teeth. His eyes dart sideways.

When it’s clear Jack isn’t going to say anything, Gabriel gives him a nudge. “Look. You’re a grown-ass man. You can fuck who you want. I’m just worried, Jack. Cabezial is…” He sucks in a breath and tries to find a word besides the one that comes to mind.

Cabezial is probably a rapist, is what he wants to say. Enough of them have heard the kind of shit he talks. But he’s not going to use the word if Jack doesn’t want to. Anyway, Cabezial didn’t do anything that time. Clearly Jack had been there of his own free will. Hopped up on hormones or not, he’s perfectly capable of putting a man through the wall if he doesn’t want to be touched.

But there’s the problem, isn’t it. If he doesn’t want to. It doesn’t take much work to make Jack want pretty much anything you’re willing to give him, these days. Gabriel breathes back out slow and even, stuck on the words for what’s in his head. How the fuck do you find a supportive way to tell a guy, _I want to fuck you till all you can say is my name and then watch you fall asleep in my arms afterwards, but I won’t do it now because I don’t think you’re completely in your right mind and it feels rapey to me. But I totally support your right to let other people use you however you like, as long as I can watch to make sure they don’t hurt you or make you feel something I couldn’t make you feel._

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Jack mutters. He’s still looking away. His face is pink again, but it’s not cute this time, with that glower on his face that’s somewhere between frustration and real anger. The cocoa in his cup ripples.

Gabriel gives him the kind of silence that lets him talk in his own time. Jack’s told him a fair amount about what it’s like, but he knows well enough that’s not the same. And he has a pretty fair idea that they’re not quite talking about that anyway.

Jack makes a frustrated noise, barely stops his hands from crushing the cup before he leans over and sets it down. Then he’s on his feet, jittering like he’s not sure which direction he wants to go, hands clenching in his hair. “What the fuck am I supposed to do? Yes, I _know_ Cab is an asshole. I just.” He flings his arms out, whatever that’s supposed to mean. He makes to say something else, then just shakes his head, jaw tight.

“Okay.” Gabriel steps closer, one hand half-raised and trying to work out whether he should touch Jack right now or not. For all he’s talked about this, Jack’s never been this worked up about it before. 

Jack turns and catches Gabriel’s wrist.

“Okay,” Gabriel says again, trying to lower his hand. Jack doesn’t let go. He steps closer too, till they’re facing each other straight on, not more than a foot of space between them. Gabriel stomps on the thrill he feels at that. This is not the fucking time.

“I have fucked so many people,” Jack says. There’s a little waver in his voice that makes Gabriel ache. “I have barely given a damn about almost any of them. Do you know what that’s like? To be...in bed, naked, with almost total strangers, letting them do things…” A tremor runs through him that Gabriel can feel through his grip. Jack fidgets again, like he wants to pace but doesn’t want to let go of Gabriel. “I.”

Another shiver ripples through him, then he raises his other hand. Gabriel watches while Jack reaches out to him slowly and then settles it flat against Gabriel's chest just below his right collarbone. For a second he seems puzzled that it’s there. Then he fists it into the cloth of Gabriel’s t-shirt to hold him in place while he leans in and kisses him. 

Gabriel feels like he's going to vibrate to pieces with the effort of not moving. The desire to crush Jack to him and kiss him until he begs for mercy is so strong that he’s a little surprised to find he's not actually doing it. But that’s a terrible idea with Jack this fucked up and Gabriel’s control this stressed, so he just stands there and waits until Jack finishes and lets go of him.

“I’m sorry,” Jack is apologizing before he even steps back. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t want it, I just.” He steps back again, a longer one to get deliberately outside Gabriel’s reach. 

Gabriel barely manages to keep from lunging for him. The only reason he stops himself is because he’s not sure what he’d do next. The things Jack is saying bounce off a wall of disbelief in his head.

Jack buries his face in his hands. “I haven’t felt safe in weeks,” he says dully into his palms. “Except for when I’m with you. I know you don’t mean it like that, and maybe that’s part of it. But I just. I can’t fucking do this anymore, and I...” He drops his hands and laughs. It sounds kind of horrible. “It’s not fair to dump this on you on top of everything else you’ve done for me. But I feel like I’m losing my mind, Gabe. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

He moves to turn away, wiping one hand across his mouth. Gabriel’s taken the two steps to grab his arm and hold him in place before he even knows he’s moving. Jack turns back to stare at him. His eyes are red and puffy but he’s not crying.

Gabriel meets his eyes and realizes he doesn’t have a damn clue what to say. He’s supposed to be good at this. Good at Jack, anyway. All he can think about is how he feels like he’s about to explode from the idea that Jack trusts him so much. “No,” he manages, after a moment in which Jack’s face goes from curiosity and something like hope to a kind of sick, wary resignation.

“No?” 

Yeah, that’s fucking eloquence there, Gabriel. He rubs a hand down his face and tries to sort out what actually matters here from the howl of _he kissed you he’s asking you fucking him will fix everything!_ his hind brain is putting out. “I don’t want to be another one of those people you regret, Jack.” He hangs on when Jack tries to pull away. “No, listen. You need someone who’ll make you feel safe more than you need another lay.” Hurt blooms in Jack’s eyes. Gabriel wants to scream. Jack trusts him to help, and when it matters, suddenly he can’t say a fucking right word? He tries again, knows it’s a stupid thing to say even as he hears it come out. “Come on, Jack, you're not ready.”

“Not ready? That's a bit egotistical.” Jack’s eyes narrow, hurt transmuting to irritation. “Aren't you the one who just said that I'm a grown-ass man who can take care of himself?”

God, Gabriel hates conversations. “I said you're a grown-ass man who can fuck who you want. I didn't say that you can take care of yourself.” And there’s the flare of offense, right on cue. Gabriel grits his teeth on his quickly fraying temper. “Jack, I know this shit’s fucked you up. That's why I won't go anywhere near you.” Jack's face begins to twist. “No, goddammit! Not like that!”

“If you're trying to let me down easy,” Jack snaps, “you don't have to spare my feelings.”

Gabriel growls. “Stop putting words in my mouth! I'm not trying to turn you down. I'm just saying, can't you wait?”

Jack tears himself away from Gabriel's grip. “Yeah. I can wait till the cows come home.” The heat’s gone out of his voice, leaving behind a tone of sullen, weathered iron. Gabriel starts a litany of curses in his head. Jack heads for their front door. “I'm sorry I kissed you. But hey, thanks for finally killing my fucking boner, I guess.”

With that, he’s off in the hallway, door swinging closed behind him. 

He wasn't even wearing fucking shoes. 

Gabriel shouts and kicks the sofa. It flips over with a snap of wood, because how else could this day go?


End file.
